Loras

"I'll bet I can, ser," Lady Meredyth Crane was saying. "I'll give you a night you won't be like to forget."

You're making me want to forget tonight more and more. Today had been the Imp's wedding, to Lady Sansa Stark, who his father had been trying to arrange to have wed to Willas. Loras could tell that the bride had fancied him, but he had kept his distance from her the whole night. Unfortunately, he had not been able to keep his distance from Merry, one of Margaery's companions. The blond and buxom wench had clearly had too much to drink that night.

"Just one more dance, ser?" she asked. "Perhaps even a tumble or two after."

"No," Loras said, flatly. This would be your fourth dance with me. "It seems to me it is past time you retired to your chambers for the night. Before you make a fool of yourself anymore."

Merry Crane seemed taken aback by that. "A fool? Me?"

"Yes, you," Loras said, unable to hide his frustration any further at this point. "Go to your bedchambers and sleep. Don't speak to me again until you are sober." Never again would be preferable even to that, but I doubt I'll ever be so lucky.

"What fun would that be?"

It's not supposed to be fun. "Go back to your bedchambers and sleep," he said, moving away from her. To his surprise, he found himself up into the Tower of the Hand, retreating for a while.

The Small Hall, which connected to the Tower of the Hand was one of the largest secondary halls in all of Westeros. Capable of seating two hundred, maybe even two hundred fifty if things were tight enough, it allowed the Hand of the King to entertain guests when needed who didn't concern the king. Or to hold wedding feasts for lesser couples who were married in the capital.

Loras was standing on a balcony, able to see out over half of the Red Keep, including the Great Hall- which doubled as the Throne Room, the godswood, Maegor's Holdfast and the Tower of the Hand. From the way it was constructed, Loras guessed that the balcony had been designed to defend the tower in an assault, rather than to provide a view from the castle, giving archers or crossbowmen a place to stand outside of the castle, while also having sufficient cover to hide behind when arrows were shot back at them, just as the only entrance into the Small Hall was through the tower itself, rather than having its own entrance.

"Was Merry giving you a hard time?" Garlan's voice asked, catching Loras off guard.

Loras nodded. "She was."

There might not have been a man who profited more from King Joffrey than Garlan. Before the war, he had already been the second son of the most powerful lord in Westeros, but now… He was Lord Garlan Tyrell, Lord of Brightwater Keep and Duke of the Reaches, perhaps the most powerful vassal of their father. As the Duke of the Reaches, both the Hightowers and Redwynes bent the knee to him, and Brightwater Keep was mighty in its own right too. "You should go have a dance with the bride," Garlan told him.

"Why?"

"Lady Sansa is quite miserable, and even at her own wedding, there's few willing to dance with her."

"She's a fool for-"

"-Nothing." Garlan finished. "She didn't do anything. This marriage was Lord Tywin's work, not her own." That hadn't been what Loras was going to say. Still, he did not tell his brother what he was originally preparing to say either. "Go on, Loras. It's only proper."

Loras nodded, and reluctantly descended back into the Small Hall. When the current dance was done, he found the bride sitting with her legs and arms both crossed as far from the dias as possible. "Might we have a dance, my lady?"

Sansa Stark's eyes brightened at the offer, but she did not say a word. His grandmother had told him that Sansa fancied him, and Loras had seen the way she looked at him too. She was a fool for doing so.

The bride was quiet for the entire dance, and Loras didn't think of anything to say to her either. He danced as gracefully as he always did, and when it was over, he went and sat down at one of the tables, and looked around at who was still in the hall. King Joffrey was dancing with some girl that Loras didn't know and Lady Sansa hadn't been able to find a partner, causing her to miss this round of dancing. Up on the dias, Lord Tywin was scolding the Imp for something, and the dwarf was clearly drunk. Loras' father was speaking to Queen Cersei about something, while Garlan had returned and was sharing a dance with his wife, Lady Leonette. He counted Margaery, their grandmother and cousins among those who had gone to bed, while his mother was dancing with Ser Kevan Lannister, whose son, Lancel, must have retired for the night too, and Prince Tommen too. His uncle by marriage, Lord Paxter Redwyne, was speaking with Mathis Rowan, the Lord of Golden Grove and Duke of the Northern Passes, and his other uncle, Ser Jon Fossoway, danced with his wife, Aunt Janna. As his eyes wandered more, he found himself observing the less important people in the hall too. The silver-haired Aurane Waters was leaving the hall, drunk Merry Crane had left already, Lord Gyles Rosby was having another coughing fit in the corner and Lady Alyce Graceford danced with Ser Balon Swann of the Kingsguard.

The king wasn't in danger, but Queen Cersei had insisted on there being three guards during the feast, though it was closer to two because one of them was Boros Blount, who was one of the few in the hall to still be eating this late.

When the next dance occurred, King Joffrey and Lady Sansa ended up being paired, and immediately Loras could see trouble. He hadn't liked Joffrey, even when he had just been a prince, and that dislike had only grown as Loras got to see who he was growing into. Though Margaery needed to be queen, Joffrey was almost as bad as Stannis.

"Time for the bedding!" the king declared when the dance was done, with his partner having gone white. Clearly Joffrey was drunk, but surprisingly, the call for a bedding was not met with a cheer from the others, though all eyes had naturally gravitated towards the king and the bride.

It was the Imp, Tyrion Lannister, who spoke up after that. Lord Tywin was not standing next to him, at least for the moment. "No."

Evidently, the king was not expecting any sort of pushback. "I'm the king. It is my right…"

"There will be no bedding, unless you wish to service your own bride with a wooden prick."

Loras stood at that. The dwarf was not much of a threat, but he had just made a threat on the king's person. Meanwhile, the king was looking over at his mother and grandfather, who must have been talking to each other before that. "Did you hear that?" he said to them. "He threatened me."

The Queen seemed furious, but Lord Tywin kept a cool look on his face. "It seems our groom is drunk, and not fit for a bedding. I trust that Tyrion did not mean his words as a threat."

Tyrion Lannister laughed. "A poor jape, your grace. I don't wish any harm upon your royal personage… it's just mine is so small and…"

"Enough," Lord Tywin said. "Tyrion, take yourself and your bride to bed."

"Yes father," the dwarf said, nodding. "Come bride, I'll smash down your portcullis without everyone undressing us first."

Lady Sansa was still white, and seemed to tremble a little, but went when her new husband ordered her to. Loras couldn't help but look at the queen and remember what he had been told by Garlan earlier that day. After the queen's daughter was married off by Lady Catelyn without her there, the queen is now relishing in marrying Lady Catelyn's daughter off without her there. But the queen didn't seem to delight in it as much as she might have, as instead she was busy talking with her father and her son, who was sulking as Loras guessed he was being ordered to go to bed.

Eventually, the king and his grandfather wandered in Loras' direction. "Please join us, Ser," the Old Lion of the Rock said. "We're taking the king to bed."

When they were in the courtyard, Lord Tywin began to speak, unconcerned of the fact that Loras was present. "Needless cruelty does not suit you," he said, bluntly. "Fear requires people to be afraid of you, more than they hate you. Tormenting your uncle and aunt for the sake of it will only make enemies." The boy king wasn't listening, Loras saw, as he walked several paces before them, but the Hand continued, undeterred. "On the morrow, you will apologize to Tyrion and Lady Sansa."

"I didn't do anything wrong," Joffrey protested, "the bedding is part of all weddings."

"We both know it was more than that," said Tywin in a hushed voice. "You'll stay away from Lady Sansa, and not make threats to torture her. You'll stay out of her bed."

The king was silent.

When they finally were in Maegor's Holdfast, Lord Tywin gestured for his grandson to enter his bedroom, then spoke to Loras. "The boy is not to leave his bedchamber tonight."

"He won't, my lord."

"Good. This door is the only way in or out. Take him to the privy if he needs, but see to it that he comes right back."

Loras nodded, and the Hand departed.

He could hear a steady flow of people returning to their bedchambers that night as he stood watch outside of King Joffrey's door. Ser Osmund was assigned to guard Prince Tommen if he recalled correctly, while Ser Meryn was guarding the Red Keep and Ser Boros and Ser Balon were sleeping in the White Tower. With only five Kingsguard within the city itself, Lord Tywin had begun making use of other highborn knights to compensate for the deficiency, without officially naming them to the Kingsguard. Most of them were men his father picked out, but tonight, none of them or any of the redcloaks were sent to guard the king with Loras. He was alone. Which left him to his thoughts.

Of late, his father had spoken with Lord Tywin about reforms to the kingdoms. In the Reach, there had always been four dukes beneath the King of the Reach, and later the Lord of the Reach. The Rowans were the Dukes of the Northern Passes, the Dorrells and later the Fossoways when house Dorrell went extinct in Aegon's conquest were the Dukes of the Mander, the Tarlys were Dukes of the Southern Marches and the Florents and now Garlan were the Dukes of the Reaches, with their grasp going as far as the Arbor. Only the Shield Islands were not subjects to any of the duchies, and they still appointed their leader. The Guardian of the Shield was presently held by Lord Moribald Chester, and the next guardian would be chosen upon his death. Renly had made similar reforms within the Stormlands when Robert Baratheon ruled, making Lord Bryce Caron the Duke of the Marches, Lord Lester Morrigen the Duke of Cape Wrath and Lady Shyra Errol the Duchess of the Upper Bay, a title that had still been recognized as Lord Bryce Caron had been replaced with Ser Phillip Foote and Lady Shyra had perished and her son, Sebastian had succeeded her. Renly had sworn that as king, he would implement such reforms across the kingdoms, but now that he was dead, it seemed unlikely. One of many dreams that died with him.

Things could have been even easier with Robert still alive. Once the queen's affair reached the king's ear, he would have quickly dealt with the queen and her children, removing House Lannister as a power, and allowing for Margaery to become the new queen. After the old sot was dead, her sons would still be young and moldable, and Renly and Loras wouldn't have had any troubles shaping their nephew into a great king. Instead, they had Joffrey. A king who relished in cruelty while still being weak enough to take orders from his mother and grandfather. And illegitimate besides, with no shortage of foes across Westeros.

Loras stood watch, all night, all the while he had doubts that he would be allowed to go to bed when the sun rose. At least he would likely be allowed to satisfy the growing hunger in his belly though. It was much to his surprise then, when just a little before sunrise, Ser Balon came to relieve him. "Lord Tywin said the king is not to leave his bedchamber at all tonight, not even to use the privy," he explained to the thirty year old knight, then he set off for the White Sword Tower.

Once he undressed, Loras got into his bed, but sleep did not come easily for him. Perhaps it was the sun that was just beginning to rise, or the wine or something else, but Loras couldn't sleep. A few hours later, he finally fell into a slumber.

It was the afternoon when he woke, feeling a little groggy still, but well enough that he didn't need more sleep. He had always been a very light sleeper, which had helped a good deal as a knight of the Kingsguard, whose job was often to just simply be awake much more than men normally were.

He rose and upon dressing himself again, he made his way back down the winding steps into the Round Room, where Ser Boros was sitting at the table, looking aimlessly at the white wool that hung from the walls. Loras couldn't help but think of how dry everything seemed. Rather than using white marble, the tower had simply been constructed using stone that was painted white, and everything about it was subsequently done to make it even whiter. The table was made of weirwood, and all the curtains were too. Even Ser Boros must have been covered in the white paint with how white he looked most of the time.

There was nothing for him to eat in the tower, so he made his way out into the keep, figuring there was likely to be some meal being served in the Great Hall. Most castles had separate areas for the lord's audience chambers and their halls for feasts, but King's Landing was different. The hall was constructed around the Iron Throne, and designed with the intent that both court and feasts could be held within it, so that the throne would be there as a reminder of who ruled. Though with this current king, it was Lord Tywin who really ruled, not the one who sat the throne.

Much to his pleasure, a meal was indeed being served as he walked in. There was no sign of the royal family, or any members of the Small Council, but Loras saw his sister sitting among their cousins, and he went to take a seat with them among the benches. They were laughing about some joke that Megga had said as he sat down.

"Oh Loras, there's so much you've missed," Elinor said, looking at him with doe eyes. "Where are we to start?"

"Prince Doran Martell of Dorne is coming," Alla said, with a childish excitement. "He's to attend Margaery's wedding."

And claim his seat upon the Small Council too no doubt. Mace Tyrell had done his best to instill a dislike for the Dornish and House Martell especially from a young age, which had not been helped by Willas being crippled in a joust with the Red Viper, though Willas himself had forgiven Prince Oberyn and was one good terms with him, from what he said.

"There was a battle too. At Duskendale, apparently, against the Starks," Margaery said.

"Duskendale? Are you sure it wasn't Stannis?" Loras had also heard about Lord Randyll Tarly being dispatched to command forces that were marching north, but not for what. If Stannis had attacked Duskendale, that would mean the end of him.

Margaery shook her head. "Everyone says it was Stark who attacked, not Stannis."

Loras was puzzled and knew he would need to gather more details from his father or someone else who knew more about the war and its goings. Attacking Duskendale was perplexing, but the fact that the Young Wolf had apparently married the daughter of one of Lord Tywin's vassals a day after his wife's death had also been perplexing, but apparently true. "Where are the newlyweds?"

"Lady Sansa still hasn't come out yet," Margaery said, with a frown. "Poor thing is probably too ashamed after marrying a man like that. The dwarf is off at the Small Council meeting though."

"That's not what I heard…" Megga said. "I heard the dwarf was impotent. They didn't find a bloody sheet this morning, so Lady Sansa is waiting for him to come back, and try again."

"It can't be," Elinor said. "The Imp is famous for whoring. He can't have become impotent… Sansa is a pretty thing. I've heard some men say-"

Loras didn't care to listen to their gossip. He'd learn what he needed from more credible sources. "Anything else you've heard?" He took some of the freshly caught trout that they had been served for lunch, and cut it with his knife, carefully trying to remove the bones.

Margaery adjusted her hands, then spoke again. "Well… Princess Rosamund is with child at Sunspear."

Elinor giggled. "I heard it that she's pregnant with a bastard. That or she was fucking the Dornish prince before they married, since apparently she was with child even in King's Landing."

"Don't speak such nonsense, Elinor," Margaery said, with a stern look on her face. "You're speaking of a princess, and a woman who will be my good-sister soon. Her son will be my nephew."

Loras was hoping for other news. Stannis Baratheon had sailed from Dragonstone and would be assaulting the city any day now. Lord Tywin and his father had agreed to hold a tourney in honor of the king's marriage. Anything besides this, which he found to be distressingly uninteresting, which was strange. Two years ago, he and Renly had always spoken about these sorts of things, and he had always been interested in it. He'd wanted to hear more about things such as this, but now… Was it me who changed? Or did the world change? Is it because of the war? Or not having Renly to discuss this with. He decided it was most likely the fourth option. When the sun sets, no candle can replace it.

Renly had promised excitement in his court. Banquets and tourneys and hunts to occupy the days, creating gossip within the court when there wasn't any, and always keeping things entertaining. King Joffrey's reign had been a disappointment by comparison. Even though the war was all but won, the greatest festivity they could treat themselves with was the wedding. A lavish wedding, that would be the greatest spectacle of the century, but not as enticing to Loras as a simple tourney would have been.

Just then, the Small Council emerged. Father, Lord Tywin, Queen Cersei, Grand Maester Pycelle, the Spider, Littlefinger, Lord Mathis, Ser Kevan, Lord Paxter and the Imp all spread out among the hall, going their own separate ways. Queen Cersei found a seat next to Prince Tommen, who had previously been on his own with a squad of redcloaks, father made his way to where mother was sitting, joined by Lord Paxter, while Lord Mathis and Petyr Baelish left the hall completely. Lord Tywin and the Imp were in quiet conversation with each other as they slowly made their way to the exit too, and the Grand Maester sat down on a bench not too far from the entrance to the Small Council Chamber, with Lord Varys taking a seat as far away from him as possible within the hall. Most glaring though, there was no sign of the king, who he hadn't seen exiting with the Small Council or in the hall.

Loras stood, not even asking to be excused by his sister or anyone else, and went out of the throne room. He was left to wander the keep for just a while, before he encountered Lord Tywin. "My lord," he said, trying not to stammer.

"Ser Loras," the old man said, looking around. "Were you ordered to guard here?" Here of course meant the outer yard, which had been full at all times of the day ever since the Battle of the Blackwater.

"No, my lord. I was looking for the king. I hadn't been assigned anywhere."

"The king is in his chambers, ser. It is good that you kept him there last night."

"He never tried to leave, my lord."

"Good. That is where he still is. He was too hungover to grace us with his presence so far today. Apparently he's thrown up thrice already."

"I didn't hear him throw up at all while I was outside his door."

"No… it was only after he woke up." His tone suggested annoyance and frustration. "The Council was called to avoid calling this fact to attention, and to serve as a… distraction."

"Why are you telling me this?" Loras asked. They were out in the open, with a fairly crowded courtyard. It wouldn't be hard for someone to overhear them like this.

"I wanted to speak with you, Loras. Alone."

"Right now?"

"Yes. Come with me."

Tywin Lannister began to lead him towards the entrance to the Tower of the Hand. Once inside, they went up the narrow, spiraling steps. Several floors up, and the Hand of the King was still upright, completely unwinded, though Loras did tire a little due to the weight of his armor. At last, they came to a stop, with Lord Tywin inviting him into a room which must have been his solar.

"It is an honor to be invited into the Tower of the Hand, my lord."

Lord Tywin snorted. "You were in here last night," he said dryly. "Sit."

Loras obeyed, taking a seat across from Lord Tywin, who offered a cup to him. Then, he took out a flask and poured, filling the cup only halfway, then setting the flask aside. While the Hand drank, Loras remained unmoving.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, setting aside his courtesies. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

"You remind me of Jaime," Lord Tywin mused, "young, gallant, handsome… always wanting to know what purpose people had with them, and very impatient when you don't get an answer. And there's that white cloak the two of you share as well, let's not forget about that either. Yet you differ greatly too. My son hungered for glory, the same as you, but he had no stomach for politics. You do. And that is what I wanted to talk about. I know about your schemes with Renly Baratheon against my daughter and grandson."

"If you mean to insinuate-"

Lord Tywin raised a hand. "I'm not insinuating anything. We both know it is true. You and Renly were scheming to make your sister queen. First by having her replace Cersei as Robert's queen, then later by crowning Renly after Robert died and marrying your sister to it. Do you deny it?"

"I bear no ill will towards his grace, King Joffrey, nor his mother, Queen Cersei," he lied.

"That's not what I asked. Do you deny that you schemed against them?"

"No."

"Good." He looked down at the map which was sprawled out on the desk, marked with various figurines to indicate current positions. "This is all but won, Ser Loras, I'm sure you know that as well as I. Stannis's strength was broken on the Blackwater, and while the Young Wolf and Balon Greyjoy fight over the North, neither will have the strength to face our forces in battle. My son won Sunspear's allegiance through marriage, and Littlefinger will be marrying Lady Lysa to win the Eyrie's fealty. While the realm heals under Joffrey's reign, know that such treachery and schemes will not be tolerated."

"Are you threatening me?"

"If you return back to scheming against my daughter and her children, then yes. That is a threat. You took on the vows of the Kingsguard. Your duty is to guard them with your life. Nothing more. Not scheming for your family's interests, nor making yourself into the subject of court gossip either."

"That is what I will do," Loras promised.

"I trust that you recognize that with your sister's marriage to my grandson that our houses will be bound by marriage. House Tyrell's best interest will be the prosperity of House Lannister."

And is House Lannister's best interest the prosperity of House Tyrell? "As you say, my lord."

"Duty calls, ser. You should return to it."

Author Notes:

Finally, I can get another chapter out. Wahoo.

Posting this ahead of Geralt II to create separation between his first and second chapters, and maintaining the planned chapter order. It was either this one or another Walder chapter, and I got this one done first.

Thanks for reading :)